Drinking tea on the balcony was an essential morning ritual. The city could be mistaken for a peaceful town from this height. Arcadia was at its most beautiful just before the sun rose. A beam of orange light peaked over the horizon to remind the world that night didn’t last forever. Suzuki Akira was especially grateful for the reminder. The tea was still too hot for his lips but he didn’t have time to let it cool off. The smog became visible as the sun’s rays illuminated them. The protective bubble over the balcony had been installed when they moved here, right after Akira got the job. Sector 2 was much more forgiving than sector 15. Still, he woke up every night panicked, expecting the hard ground underneath him instead of a warm bed. Fumi helped him back to sleep each night. Sometimes he couldn’t.

  When he walked back inside, Fumi was still asleep. It was impossible to tell how much she had sacrificed for him as she slept peacefully. All of the sheets were on her side. Akira laughed to himself at their old joke about hogging the sheets. His uniform was hand pressed, hanging on the corner of the closet door. More love poured into his heart for the woman asleep on their bed. She must’ve done this after he went to sleep. He methodically removed it and deconstructed it. Socks went on first, then shirt, pants, belt, jacket, and hat. He made sure all his pins and medals were straight. With one last look at the breathtaking view from the balcony, he walked out the door to face the monster that waited for him.

  There was a suspensor train station right next to their apartment. Looking up at the lavish building he still couldn’t believe that he lived there. The station wasn’t too far but he didn’t feel like walking. He would be spending enough time in the streets. He boarded the train and sat to himself on the left side. The gentle rocking helped calm his mind to where it should be. A gentleman sitting across from him was eyeing the uniform. The man had a suit and briefcase. Likely a government official. Akira could tell not just from what he wore, but the smug look on his face. Government workers were often thought of to be at the very top of the social order. Akira was smart enough to know that many of them were frauds, born into their privilege with no clue of how hard some had to work. He could already feel a scowl forming on his lips as he realized this man was going to say something.

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  “You’re Chief Suzuki aren’t you?” the man said.

  “Yes, sir. How are you doing this fine morning?” Suzuki said. This is still a citizen under my protection, he reminded himself. Although his salary was probably double for doing half the work. And likely most of that salary came under the table from shady deals. All the respect that government officials got made them immune from scrutiny. This allowed them to get involved in corruption much easier than it should’ve. Suzuki had already encountered enough of this at the APF in the past year. He tried to put his prejudices aside.

  “Have you spoken with President Azuma recently?” the man asked.

  “No, I have not. He still isn’t feeling well. We’re hoping he feels better soon-”

  “So you have met him?” he said with a skeptical grin. Suzuki knew exactly what he was getting at. There was a popular belief that President Azuma had already passed away and it was a cover up to keep his daughter, the vice–president, in charge. The president had been ill and public appearances had dwindled over the past couple years. This was a popular belief among everyday citizens, but now it was clear that it went all the way up through the government.

  “Yes, I met the president when I was sworn into my position as chief of the Arcadia Police Force.” The man didn’t believe it. The smug distrust on his face challenged Suzuki to keep his cool.

  “Ok…” the man said sarcastically. “Well, I’ve worked in the government for many years. I’m in Energy, under Fukumoto. I’ve never even seen the president, much less spoken to him.” Suzuki was certain Fukumoto was a crook but lacked evidence. He wasn’t going to hear anymore from a man who took orders from the likes of Fukumoto.

  “As I said, President Azuma is still not feeling well and is mainly confined to a bed. He is receiving the best medical care in Arcadia. Besides, the president has better things to do than to meet pencil pushers in the department of Energy.” The train pulled into the station. This was Suzuki’s stop, thankfully.

  “I’ll have you know, I am a very important cog in the machine of Arcadia’s-”

  “Have a good day, sir,” Suzuki said as he strolled off the train. A smile crept onto his lips as he heard the incoherent rambling of the man behind the sliding train doors.